Wind to Fire
by LyrisVox
Summary: Set towards the beginning of season 4. "What if I could help you figure it out?" Brock reached out stopping the kid's frantic pacing. He grabbed Hank's upper arms, pulling him close. Brock/ Hank


I have had this story on for a bit now but as I just edited it and made it all shiny and new I decided to post it over here too. I love Brock/Hank and you just don't find that much of it. Anyways if you like the story let me know and constructive criticism is always welcome. Thank you for reading. ~LyrisVox

Wind to Fire

"Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it inflames the great."

― Roger de Bussy-Rabutin

Hank eased the sliding door closed and leaned against the slick outer wall of the Venture Compound. He stood in the dark shaking, sweaty and hard. He smoothed his hand down the front of his speedsuit, desperate to make his erection less obvious. A cool breeze swept across the wide entryway, ruffling his hair. He peered through the dark, his eyes drawn to the glowing outline of the fountain. The statues of his father and grandfather stared up into the vast night sky and he turned his own face up towards the inky blackness. The dream that had awoken him had been intense, but not enough to make him come in his sleep. Hank pushed away from the wall, trudging down the stairs. He flopped down, his back against the stone rim of the fountain, feeling the fine spray of water dampen the back of his neck. He reached up, tangling his fingers into his hair and tugging until it hurt. Why did this keep happening? Why did he have to be so fucked up? He tensed, tears stinging his eyes.

A shrill beeping jerked Brock out of his sleep. He rubbed his eyes and rolled over. His watch flashed an alarm from the motion detectors he had set up outside the Venture Compound. He grabbed the laptop from the nightstand next to his bunk, silencing the alarm and activating his link to the cameras on the grounds. He flipped through the images until he saw what had triggered the alarm. Brock leaned back and sighed. What was Hank Venture doing hunched outside in the middle of the night? The night vision didn't give much detail but even a blind man could see that the kid was upset about something.

He chewed his lip. Sergeant Hatred was their bodyguard now, and he needed to keep a low profile while working for S.P.H.I.N.X, but he loved the boys and he couldn't just shut that off. He'd hacked into Venture Compound security, keeping tabs on the family from the moment he had gotten back, convinced Hatred wasn't capable of protecting them. A movement on the screen caught his eye, Hank swiped his hands over his cheeks, brushing away tears. That sealed it. The former OSI agent stood, fumbling around the dark room for his clothes. No force on heaven or earth could make him sit here and watch the kid cry.

Hank felt a sob rising and he held his breath, clinging to the ragged remains of his control. The muscles in his jaw ached from his constant clenching. There was a strange tightness in his chest as he tried to fight back the tears. He felt beyond tired, the dreams had been plaguing him every night for more than a month now. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that they were just dreams, he never could get back to sleep after having one. Tonight he had been lucky, Dean fell asleep on the couch with Sergeant Hatred after watching a movie, so at least he had been alone when he jerked awake with a startled moan. Dean knew, despite Hank's lame excuse that nightmares were keeping him up at night. His lies couldn't cover up the stains on his clothing. He winced, the memory of his twin's attempt to get him to open up about it still fresh in his mind.

Dean had been sitting at his desk, making a show of rearranging the clutter. He kept his eyes on his work as he addressed Hank, who lay sprawled face down across his bed.

"It's normal you know."

"What are you mumbling about?" Hank snapped. He turned on his side, glaring at Dean's back. The lack of sleep was making him moody.

"When it happens in your sleep, it's called a nocturnal emission. It's pretty common in boys our age."

"Yuck dude! Why would you say something like that?"

Hank buried his red face in his pillow. He wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He hoped Dean would take the hint and let it go.

Dean swiveled his chair around, pinning Hank with his soft brown eyes. "Well I've had some, about Triana, so if you want to talk about it I'm here."

Hank froze; could he tell Dean his secret? It was embarrassing enough to be having chronic wet dreams, but the worst part of it all was that they were about someone he knew. Hank could picture the look of abject horror on his brother's face if he told him the dreams that had him coming in his sleep every night were about Brock Samson. He wasn't ready to face what that might mean, let alone tell anyone else.

"Gross, man, I don't want to hear about your sex dreams." Hank huffed, leaping off his bed and storming out of their room, leaving his stammering brother in his wake. His reaction had been harsh enough that Dean never brought the subject up again.

The sound of footsteps approaching brought him back and he set his teeth. It must be Sergeant Hatred coming to check on him and he had no intention of explaining why he was outside crying in the middle of the night. He started gearing himself up for a fight, shoulders tensing as the footsteps stopped in front of him.

"Hey kid."

The sound of Brock's voice made Hank jerk his head up. There he stood, wearing his usual tight black t-shirt and blue jeans. The clothes and his hair were messy like he had just gotten out of bed. Hank's eyebrows drew together. Had he fallen asleep outside? He reassured himself by pinching his upper arm. Now that he was sure Brock was real he lept to his feet, swiftly closing the distance between them. Hank struck Brock's chest, making the taller man grunt. He buried his face in Brock's shirt, loving the familiar feel of the soft cotton. He never realized how much he missed Brock until he saw him and then it was all he could do not to burst into tears.

Even in the dark, Brock could see the tear tracks running down the boy's cheeks. He reached his hand up, wiping away the wetness with his thumb. Hank trembled in his arms and he frowned. He had never seen Hank this fragile before.

"What are you doing here?" Hank's voice sounded thick from the tears.

"I could ask you the same thing. It's almost two in the morning Hank, shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I, uh, I just couldn't sleep."

Brock loosened his grip and leaned back, wanting a better look at the kid's face. One eyebrow arching up at the faint pink he saw staining Hank's cheeks.

Hank was doomed. He could already feel the heat from Brock's body riling him up and he stepped away before his own body could betray him. He crossed his arms over his chest, keeping his eyes on the ground. Brock was the last person that he wanted knowing about his problem. For the first time in his life he secretly hoped that Brock might have to leave soon and the guilt of that thought branded him.

Brock's eyes widened, Hank was hiding something from him. The kid wouldn't even look him in the eyes. It had always seemed like he and Hank could talk about anything. His leaving must've been hard on Hank. He and Dr. Venture were friends but the Doc had always been more concerned with himself than either of the boys and Hank loathed Sergeant Hatred. He wanted to show Hank that even though he wasn't still living with them, he would always be there. Besides, if he was honest with himself, he missed Hank; the kid's gung-ho attitude and fiery spirit had earned him a special place in the older man's heart. He fished the Charger's keys out of his back pocket.

"Well since you're not sleeping anyway, want to go for a ride?"

Hank looked up at that, catching the soft look in Brock's blue eyes. Brock flashed a quick grin that helped lessen the tension coiling every muscle in Hank's body. He was being stupid, there wasn't any reason for Brock to suspect anything. He needed this, time with Brock where he could try and forget how muddled everything between them had become and just enjoy being together again. He smiled back as he nodded. They walked behind the main building, Hank trotting to keep up with Brock's long strides, and entered the cavernous garage where Brock kept his car parked.

Brock opened the passenger door of the Charger, letting Hank slide in before circling round and getting in himself. For the time being the kid had perked up and seemed much more relaxed. The Charger roared to life, the purr of her engine echoing off the metal walls. He pulled out of the compound, taking the mountain road up to the overlook. It was a perfect clear night and from that height they would be able to see for miles. They sat in companionable silence, the car hugging the tight switchback curves.

Hank kept sneaking glances at Brock, it felt so good being with him but his stupid subconscious wouldn't stop butting in. Scenes from his dreams kept popping into mind, making him squirm. His fingers dug into the leather where he gripped the seat. His heart racing at the vivid flashes of things that the older man did to him every night in his sleep. Hank squeezed his eyes shut. Stop, stop, stop! His inner voice sounded hysterical as he fought against the intrusions, but he no longer controlled his own brain. Why couldn't they go back to just being family? Goosebumps raised on his skin and he could swear he felt harsh, demanding hands running over his body. His gaze fell on Brock's hand where it rested on the shifter, drinking in the long sensual fingers, the rough knuckles that flexed when his palm cupped the rounded lever. He felt the most overwhelming urge to reach out and touch them. Did Brock's palms feel calloused like he imagined they did whenever Brock held him down in his dreams? What would it feel like having those fingers actually pushing inside him? He shuddered, his mind whirring, imagining the intensity of being spread open. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the taller man's tan skin. His hand had separated from his body and he watched helpless as it shot out and brushed Brock's forearm. Brock's muscles tensed briefly then relaxed, rippling under Hank's fingers. His dick was hard again, pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of his pants. This was bad, he was drawing too much attention to himself.

Brock glanced down when he felt the light touch of Hank's slightly moist palm. Slender fingers splayed out over his forearm, a tentative brush of skin on skin. He looked sidelong at the blond, whose eyes were glued to the spot where they were connected. Hank wore a pained look on his face and Brock decided to ignore the awkwardness of the situation, not wanting to push the kid further away from him. They reached the pull off that overlooked the Compound and Brock parked the car and killed the engine. They sat perched on the tall cliff, the grounds of Venture Industries spread out below them. The stars twinkling above, pinpoints of fire burning through a velvet black sky. In the silence Brock could hear Hank breathing hard and shallow. The hand on his arm ghosted down before clamping hard at his wrist. Hank let out a soft whimper.

"Hey, you okay?" Brock asked.

Hank gasped and snatched his hand back like he had been burned. Holding the offending appendage against his chest, staring at it as though he had never seen it before.

Brock faced the kid, studying him. Hank had always been a little weird but this was strange behavior even for him.

"Hank?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me. If you were fine would you have been outside crying in the middle of the night? What's going on?" The look he gave Hank told him that he wasn't going to tolerate being jerked around.

"I haven't been sleeping well. I keep having bad dreams." Hank was desperate to change the subject before Brock zeroed in on the real problem. "How did you know I was out there?"

"I'm not your bodyguard anymore but that doesn't mean I'm not looking out for you."

The corners of Hank's mouth turned up in a small smile. Hearing Brock say that he still cared felt good.

"See, even you think Hatred is a hack."

"I never said that," Brock countered. "How long have you been having nightmares?"

The alarms were sounding in Hank's brain. Brock had an unbelievably sensitive bullshit detector.

"It's not nightmares, just weird dreams."

Crap, even he knew how lame that sounded. He couldn't sit still. The air in the car felt too hot and he hunched over, giving a silent prayer that Brock would let this go. The heat of Brock's skin lingered on his palm, making his whole body tight, so hard it hurt. His arousal obvious even through his pants, he closed his eyes, trying to will his erection away.

Brock took in Hank's strained posture and he reached out to pat the kid's leg, offering comfort. The moment he touched him Hank flinched away, eyes wide like a cornered animal.

"Alright, something is going on and you are going to tell me what it is. Why are these dreams bothering you so much? What are they about?" The words were more of a command than a question, and he saw Hank go limp, looking defeated.

Hank was done for. He anticipated the revulsion that would meet his confession. His hope unraveling right in front of him. How had everything gone so wrong?

"The dreams are about you, okay!" he shouted slamming his hands into the glove compartment. "I keep having these dreams where we're like, touching and doing stuff." His face and neck burned with the admission. He snuck a peek at Brock, wanting to see his reaction.

"Touching?" Brock asked. He blinked, keeping his face neutral. That would go a long way toward explaining Hank's behavior. He didn't want to jump to conclusions though.

"I don't know man, I said they were weird. We're together, kissing and touching. It feels good. When I wake up I'm all hot and hard. Sometimes I've already, you know, finished."

A sharp pain shot through Hank's chest. He wished he could snatch the words back, run home and forget that this had ever happened. His fingers clawed at the handle. He threw the car door open and jumped out, stumbling twice in the slick grass before he got his feet under him. The logical part of him knew he couldn't escape but he ran anyway, not caring where he ended up.

"Ahh hell," Brock swore. He surged out of the car. "Hank, get back here!"

It was only a matter of seconds before he caught Hank, grabbing his arm and jerking him around to face him.

"Let go!" Hank hissed, struggling in the bruising hold of his former bodyguard.

"Hank, what the hell?" Brock demanded. This was ridiculous, he wasn't going to spend his night chasing a moody teenager. Hank wasn't listening, he twisted his wrist hard but Brock held tight, feeling the bones grind in his grip. Brock growled in exasperation, kicking out and knocking the blond's legs out from under him. He drove them both into the grass, pinning the boy underneath him. Brock's hands itched to shake some sense into the kid. Why was Hank acting like this? Just because of some dreams? Hank bucked like a bronco beneath him.

"You want to tell me what this little hissy fit is all about?"

"What do you mean? I just told you I think I'm becoming a homo. I keep having sex dreams about you and just now when I touched you in the car I got all hard. I'm so messed up," Hank wailed, going limp at last under the larger man. His throat felt dry and his muscles burned from his efforts. Any minute now Brock would pull away and then it would be over, this would be the catalyst that drove them apart forever. Why had his feelings of admiration warped into attraction?

Brock stared down at the boy beneath him. Confusion and anguish were plain on the kid's face. So Hank's wet dreams were about him. He hesitated, not sure of what he should say. When Hank had blurted it out in the car it had taken all of his willpower to keep his mouth shut. The fact that Hank fantasized about them being together didn't freak him out. He liked women, but attraction was more fluid than that. He observed the boy. Hank had always been a good looking kid and the idea of something sexual between them didn't turn him off.

He shook his head, he was getting ahead of himself. Hank was freaking out because he was having fantasies about a man, he hadn't said that he wanted Brock.

"If I let go are you going to run off again?" He asked. A comical look of surprise came over Hank's face. He shook his head and Brock shifted back, kneeling over the flustered Venture. When he felt sure that Hank had calmed down, he stood back, giving him space to sit up.

Hank cringed, waiting for the fallout, but Brock stayed silent.

"Well?"

"Well what Hank? So you've been having wet dreams about me, who cares? Dreams don't mean anything."

"Having chronic wet dreams about someone means something," Hank countered, his voice petulant. "And what happened just now in the car means something too." He curled his hands into fists, scowling at the ground.

"Jesus, you're a teenage boy! Your hormones are going crazy, you could react that way from touching anyone right now. Don't worry about your dreams, most boys have them and me being in them doesn't mean you want to have sex with me. I haven't been around much, maybe you miss me."

Hank had thought the same thing himself, wondering if his messed up subconscious was trying to help him feel connected to Brock. None of that explained his reaction in the car though. That had been real desire, not smoke and mirrors.

"What if I do want you?"

The words were so soft Brock almost didn't hear them. He stood still, his lips pressed in a hard line. He could feel his pulse quicken but he held back. He didn't want to hurt Hank's feelings but getting ahead of himself here would do more harm than good.

"Do you?" He laid a gentle hand on the blond's shoulder.

Hank flinched. His stomach tying itself in knots. He felt torn between shaking off Brock's hand and accepting the affection he craved. Thoughts racing through his mind, making him lightheaded.

"Maybe, I don't know dude. I never thought I would be saying this." He jumped up, pacing back and forth in the grass. Needing to move and exorcise the terrifying new feelings that threatened to overwhelm him.

"What if I could help you figure it out?" Brock reached out stopping the kid's frantic pacing. He grabbed Hank's upper arms, pulling him close.

"What do you m-"

Before Hank could finish Brock captured his lips in a soft kiss. Hank felt a jolt of electricity run through him. Brock was kissing him! The hard line of the larger man's body pressed against him. Brock was being surprisingly gentle, controlling the kiss but not taking it further. One large hand held his waist, the other soothed up and down his back. His head swam and heat pooled low in his belly. His whole body urged him closer. He raised up on his tiptoes, opening his mouth, letting Brock know he wanted more. He felt the rumble of Brock's growl against his chest seconds before Brock's tongue plunged into his mouth.

Brock's excitement spiked when Hank responded. He'd expected the kid to pull away from his kiss, not deepen it. When Hank opened his mouth Brock's control slipped, his hands clenching in Hank's clothes as heat poured over him. He couldn't deny the seductive invitation, diving his tongue in against Hank's. He seized Hank's hips, jerking them against his own, feeling how hard the kid was just from kissing. His dick twitched and thickened, the urge to grind against those slim hips clouding his mind. He checked himself, his body taut, ready to push Hank back on the ground. They needed to talk first. He pulled back, smirking when he heard the boy whine from the loss of contact.

"Just relax," he soothed, keeping Hank's narrow hips flush against his own. He took a moment to catch his breath.

Hank's body had a mind of it's own and it wasn't interested in slowing down. His cock was harder than ever before and he was desperate for friction. He dug his hands into the black cotton covering Brock's chest, panting. His eyes went up and Hank shivered when he saw Brock's flushed face. Why had he stopped?

"I liked that." Hank's lips tingled, craving another taste of the subtle flavor of Brock's mouth. He felt Brock's hot breath against his forehead. There was an insistent pressure against his groin and he sucked in a breath, realizing that Brock was hard. A choked groan tore from his throat as he gave into his body's demands, rubbing himself against Brock's erection. His knees felt weak and the pressure on his dick was shattering.

Brock inhaled sharply when he felt Hank press into him. Hank started shaking and he hooked an arm around his slim waist, bracing him. Hank was beyond reason, too excited to think of the consequences. He needed to be responsible. His cock throbbed in protest but he set his teeth. No matter how much he wanted this, it wouldn't be worth it if Hank was going to regret it tomorrow.

"Hank, listen to me." He tilted the boy's chin up, their eyes meeting. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Hank bit the inside of his cheek, trying to clear his head and think about what Brock had asked. Would this change things? Yes, it would, but he would go crazy if things kept on the way they were going now. He trusted Brock, and his dreams over the last month had opened his eyes, making him want things that shocked him. He was already more than half in love with Brock and he couldn't walk away. He opened his mouth to speak but his throat had closed and he couldn't get the words out.

Actions were better than words anyway. He slithered his hand between them, palming Brock's erection through his jeans. It wasn't enough. He popped the button, pulling them open and reaching through the hole in his underwear. His hand met hot skin and he let out a soft moan. He closed his fingers around the shaft, giving several tentative strokes before Brock grabbed his wrist, holding him still.

"Answer me." Brock insisted. He didn't pull Hank's hand away but he wouldn't let him avoid giving consent.

"Yes dammit! Do you think I would be grabbing your junk if I didn't want this?"

"Okay kid, I just needed you to say it."

Sweaty fingers squeezed him, making pleasure bleed out around his groin. His grip on Hank's wrist went slack and the kid wasted no time pulling his penis from his pants. The soft hand stroked up and down his shaft, making him hiss in pleasure. He captured Hank's mouth in a punishing kiss, one hand cupping the back of Hank's neck. Hank whined into his mouth and he held the kid tighter, the primitive part of him demanding submission.

He scolded himself, Hank wasn't some bar skank he'd picked up for a hard fuck. He loved Hank and he wanted to make it good for him. He considered letting Hank control things, giving him the freedom to decide what they would do. How much did Hank know about sex anyway, he wondered. Both the Venture twins were on the naive side but Hank was more worldly than Dean. Brock stifled a laugh; with how awkward the kid was leaving Hank in charge would lead to disaster.

Hank couldn't get over how strange touching someone else's penis felt. So different from touching himself. His curiosity got the best of him and he broke the kiss, looking down. Brock's penis was thick, tan skin ending in a flushed head. Hank swiped his fingertips over the slit, gathering the drops of slick fluid that leaked from Brock in a steady stream. Hank stared, what it would taste like if he ran his tongue over that wet slit? Would it be disgusting? Would having Brock's dick in his mouth make him feel powerful?

"Down on your knees Hank," Brock commanded, having read the curiosity on the kid's face. Watching the kid stare at his cock like that had sapped his restraint, now he needed the boy's hot little mouth around him. He saw Hank struggle with the idea of what was happening. As Hank gave in, sinking to his knees, Brock's dick gave a hard throb resonating with the flutter in his chest. He set his hands on Hank's trembling shoulders, thumbs rubbing gently over his clavicles.

"Are you...I mean obviously I've never..." Hank trailed off. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I've never sucked anyone off before."

Sure he'd watched porn, he knew the basics. Even so, he was positive he was about to make fool of himself.

Brock fisted one hand in Hank's hair, glad that he had let it grow out. He felt powerful holding Hank like this, controlling him. He reached down with his other hand, steadying the base of his cock, pulsing his grip, his gaze glued to those parted rose lips.

"Open your mouth."

Hank moistened his lips before leaning forward and giving a tentative lick on the underside of the head. It tasted of salt and skin and he explored the spongy texture with the tip of his tongue. The hand in his hair tightened as Brock shuddered. Hank screwed up his courage, taking the whole thing in his mouth, plunging it in too deep and gagging. He pulled back, leaving just the tip in his mouth, giving it an experimental suck. Brock groaned, making Hank's cock jump in his pants. He inhaled Brock's scent through his nose, sliding back down, careful not to scrape the delicate skin with his teeth.

Brock heard his knuckles crack as he clenched his free hand into a fist, fighting hard to keep from thrusting down Hank's throat. The kid's mouth was molten hot. He was sure he was going to Hell for this, but the soft wet swipe of Hank's tongue against him made it worth it. Hank brought up his hands, placing one against his hip and grabbing the base of his dick with the other. He watched himself sliding in and out, wet and shiny with spit. He had to move. He pulled the hand that restrained him away from his groin, threading his fingers with Hank's. He was careful with his movements, thrusting shallow in Hank's mouth. Hank tensed for a second and then relaxed and that moment of trust made his heart beat faster. He sped up his thrusts, his movements deliberate even though he felt his climax barreling down upon him. He squeezed Hank's hand, his pelvic muscles tightening. He tried to warn the boy.

"Hank, I'm...I'm about to."

Hank faltered, realizing that Brock was seconds away from coming in his mouth. Would it taste awful? He pushed the thought away telling himself it would be worth it knowing that he had made Brock orgasm. Hank plunged down, taking as much of Brock in his mouth as he could. He sucked hard, hoping Brock would come before he had a chance to chicken out.

"God Hank!" Brock yelled, his dick contracting, pumping hot semen into the kid's mouth. It felt so fucking good! Pleasure flooded his body, washing all thought away. His grip in Hank's hair was brutal as he spurted down the boy's throat.

Hank gagged at the first pulse of blood warm fluid. He considered spitting it out briefly before another pulse filled his mouth and he had to either swallow or choke. He relaxed, swallowing till he felt the tide slow, then he pulled away wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His ears were ringing and his rubbery legs buckled, landing him hard in the dark green grass. He sucked in big gulps of air, trying not to concentrate on the bitter taste in his mouth.

Brock stuffed his penis back in his pants before crouching down by Hank. They sat in silence as he let Hank process what had just happened. He frowned, not liking the glassy look in Hank's brown eyes.

"You doing okay?"

Brock's voice made Hank jump. His head felt fuzzy. He stiffened in surprise when Brock leaned down and kissed him, considering where his mouth had just been.

Brock tasted himself in Hank's mouth and deepened the kiss. He used his leverage and maneuvered the teen onto his back, Hank's erection hot and urgent against his stomach. He claimed Hank with his hands, leaving no inch of him untouched. Liking the way Hank arched against him. He grabbed the zipper of his old denim coat (secretly flattered that the kid insisted on wearing it everywhere) pulling it open. Sliding the material down Hank's arms and spreading it out so he wasn't laying right in the cool grass. The blue speed-suit went next, he dragged the zipper down to Hank's waist in one harsh motion, making Hank squeak.

Hank was painfully aware that all that kept him from being naked in front of Brock was his thin undershirt and shorts. His skin tingled in anticipation. Brock curled his hands under the collar of his shirt, tearing the thin material down the middle before pushing it out of his way, revealing the pale skin underneath. His arms came up, trying to cover himself, but Brock growled and snatched his wrists away, pinning them above his head.

"Too late to be shy now kid," Brock admonished, transferring Hank's wrists to one hand. His eyes devoured the beauty before him. Hank's chest was broad, not like his own but still masculine. His pink nipples were hard. His body hovered on the cusp of manhood. A trail of light hair started at his navel and traveled down into his navy blue underwear. Brock caressed the boy with his free hand, teasing his palm across the fair skin. Hank moaned and squirmed but Brock held him tight. It was time to see the rest of Hank's beautiful body. He grasped the waistband of Hank's underwear along with the speedsuit and hauled the fabric down, leaving it tangled around his knees.

Hank had never felt more exposed in his entire life. He yelped when Brock roughly freed his erection. It jutted up, ardent, against his belly. He grimaced, turning his face into his arm. His whole body blushed. How slutty he must look. He twitched at the wet swipe of Brock's tongue along his neck, followed by a sharp nip. He gasped, knowing the bite would leave a mark. What would he say if Pop or Dean saw it? Brock seemed unconcerned, continuing to torture him, his hand crawling further and further down his stomach, inching toward his erection. He couldn't stand being teased any longer and bucked his hips, the tip of his penis brushing against Brock's wrist, leaving a wet smear. His body begged for attention.

"Please Brock, please just touch me already." Hank hated the pleading tone in his voice but the words just tumbled out. His hips were rocking, humping the air. When Brock's hand finally wrapped around him he whimpered in relief. He couldn't believe that Brock was touching him. The pleasure tore away his barriers and the words gushed out of him, he was pleading, praying out loud that Brock would never stop.

The frantic tone of Hank's voice, hearing him use those dirty words to beg for his affection, was more than Brock could handle. His dick hung rigid and heavy between his legs. He had never imagined it would be so sexy hearing such filthy things coming from Hank Venture. Hank still had his face hidden. He released Hank's wrists and touched his cheek, wanting to see those lust darkened eyes.

"Hank, how far do you want to take this?" Brock asked. He kept his words and his tone gentle, not wanting Hank to feel ashamed.

Hank stared up into bright blue eyes. He thought back to the small amount of gay porn that he had seen. Did Brock want to stick his dick inside him? Did he want him to?

"Are you talking about anal?" Hank tried to keep his voice steady but Brock's hand pulling at his penis made it hard. A satisfied smile lit up his face when he saw the look of shock that Brock gave him.

"Is that something you want? It could be kind of painful." Brock's eyebrows shot up into his hairline when Hank mentioned anal sex. He felt tempted to ask Hank where he had learned about that. He shook his head, the boys must do lots of things that he and their father didn't know about, including masturbating to porn on the internet. Well…maybe not Dean. Brock envisioned sinking himself into Hank's tight heat, taking away his virginity. His dick hard and leaking inside his pants, expressing its own approval. If Hank said yes there would be no stopping him.

"Will it hurt a lot?"

Hank felt dizzy, blood roaring in his ears from the rush of adrenaline and arousal. Sure Brock could make him feel good, but he didn't want to sign up for something that would leave him walking with a limp for the next week. Brock made a soft pained noise drawing Hank's eyes to him. The damp spot spreading from the bulge in Brock's boxers made it clear that the idea of fucking excited him. Hank couldn't help but feel painfully aware of how big Brock was. He swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. Fear shone in his eyes when he looked at Brock, waiting for his answer.

"It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. I have some lube in the car and I'll stretch you out before hand. It'll burn some when I put it in but I'll be careful and go slow. It won't be all bad though, it'll feel good too." He leaned in, his lips brushing Hank's as he whispered, "There's something I can touch inside you that will make you feel incredible." Loving the way the kid shuddered at his words. Honesty was best, he didn't want to see an accusing look on the kid's face when he hurt him.

Hank huddled against Brock, seeking comfort. The choice was his, either they went further or Brock would get him off with his hand and it would all be over. Would they ever do this again? Would he get another chance? He took control of his racing thoughts. None of that mattered right now, all that mattered was whether or not he was ready. He didn't want to puss out, he wanted Brock more than anything, no matter how unknown the territory. He stretched up and nodded before sealing his mouth to Brock's in a fierce kiss.

"I'll be right back, I need to grab a couple of things from the car."

Brock rose swiftly, jogging to the car, grabbing a condom and lube from the glove compartment. He could still remember the saucy look that Dr. Venture had given him when he discovered that Brock kept supplies in his car. A cold stab of fear bloomed in his gut. What would his old friend say if he knew they were about to be used on his teenage son? He pushed the thought away, he would worry about that later. When Hank agreed he'd felt ready to grab those slim thighs and shove himself in. Wanting to hear Hank scream from that first agonizing thrust. His groin tightened, riding the razor's edge of excitement and pain. No sudden attack of morality was going to stop him now and he hurried back to where Hank sat naked and unsure. His for the taking.

Hank caught sight of the the feral look Brock had fixed on him and he shivered from more than the cool breeze. His dick, however, wasn't concerned and pressed unyielding against his abdomen, making the hair under his belly button sticky with pre-come. When Brock set down the condoms and lube Hank had to choke back the horde of objections his brain threw at him.

"How, um," his voice came out high and reedy. He cleared his throat, trying again. "How do you want me?" He winced, hoping Brock wouldn't ask him to present himself on hands and knees. He wanted to look at Brock when they came together. Brock leaned down, reassuring him with a quick kiss.

"Calm down kid," Brock whispered, mouth against the boy's ear. His other hand pressed on Hank's sternum, easing him onto his back. Brock rubbed his hands over Hank's entire body, warming him up and relaxing him. Hank's nervous tension started to lessen and Brock grabbed the lube, squirting some onto his fingers, making them shiny and slick. He brushed them against the tender underside of Hank's testicles. Hank twitched and gasped, slamming his legs closed on instinct. Brock laughed out loud, the kid was skittish as a colt. He pried Hank's skinny legs apart with his free hand, scooting between his knees, keeping them open. His wet fingers slid down, rubbing small circles around Hank's puckered entrance, softening the tight muscle.

Hank tried to force himself to relax. It wasn't working, every time he managed to unwind, some foreign sensation set him on edge again. The slickness around his asshole was unsettling. He lay still, his hands fisting in the grass, sure he was doing something wrong. Brock was taking it easy on him and he appreciated it. Still, a part of him wished that they were more equally matched. All thought came to an abrupt halt when a lubed finger slipped inside him. It stung and the shocking sensation of his bowels going in reverse made him take a series of hitched breaths. His hand shot out, gripping Brock's wrist, needing something to hold onto.

"Hank look at me." Brock held still until scared brown eyes met his. "Just stay with me, it'll help you relax." He wasted no time before shoving a second finger in next to the first, coating Hank's insides and spreading him apart. He found the small bundle of nerves inside the boy, skimming it tenderly. A cocky smirk on his face as he watched Hank come undone from his touch.

A cry erupted out of Hank's throat. He had been so focused on his discomfort that the pleasure blindsided him. Brock continued teasing that spot inside him until he was slamming his hips down on those long fingers, desperate for more.

Brock used the pleasure as a distraction, slipping a third finger inside. Hank was beyond tight, it felt like his fingers were in a hot vice. He took his time, pushing Hank until he was jerking and mewling with every twist. A steady stream of fluid leaked from Hank's pretty pink cock and a thin sheen of sweat covered his body.

Hank saw Brock reach for the lube and he felt his heart leap into his throat. His eyes wide, watching Brock spread the clear liquid over his cock. He remembered how huge that thing had felt in his mouth. How much worse would it be trying to fit it in his ass? He reared off the ground and Brock shot him a concerned look.

"I-I don't think you're going to fit," he stuttered. Brock pulled his fingers out of him, laying his sticky hand on his chest, not pushing him back. Just keeping him still.

"Hank it's fine, I promise you I'll be gentle. It felt good with my fingers right?" Hank looked away before giving a small nod. "It'll feel even better with this." He stroked himself drawing Hank's attention back to his cock. He let Hank take a couple of deep breaths. "Do you want to stop?"

Hank reached out a finger caressing Brock's slippery penis, running it over the brutish organ. It jumped at his touch and he felt a little thrill that he could drive Brock crazy, that the man he loved wanted him this bad. He took another deep breath, blowing out his fears with his exhale.

"No. I want to keep going."

"You sure?"

"Please."

Brock couldn't wait anymore, he grabbed Hank's thighs, spreading them, pushing them up toward his chest, presenting his hole like a shiny wet treasure. Brock inched forward, settling between Hank's legs, his blunt tip bumping against that twitching target.

Hank felt hot shame wash over him. He looked like he belonged in a porno. He heard Brock's harsh breathing and felt his fingers digging into the soft flesh of his inner thighs. The rest of the world fell away and his chest was tight. He was consumed by the need to be closer to Brock, body trembling in anticipation.

Brock held the base of his penis, exerting a steady pressure, the head slipping inside. Hank gasped and whined, unable to keep still. Inch by inch he was swallowed up by that scorching heat. He murmured soothing things, aware of how useless it was, none of what he said made this any easier on Hank. He saw Hank's body pulse around his intrusion. He paused, every muscle in his body taut, giving Hank time to relax and accept him.

Hank's ass was on fire and a sharp burning pain shot up his spine every time Brock slid further inside him. Tears welled out of his eyes, dripping down, wetting his hair. When he felt Brock's hips settle against his tender backside, their thighs fused together, the space between them non-existent, he let out a shuddering sob.

"Was it really that bad crybaby?"

His words were harsh but his tone was tender and Brock reached up, wiping away his tears before placing several apologetic kisses on his mouth and neck. The novelty of having someone inside him, of knowing that this was the most intimate act two people could do together, took Hank's breath away. Hank kissed Brock hard, needing an outlet for the emotions swelling within him.

The passion Brock felt coming from Hank caught him off guard. He worked to return the emotion, captivated by how natural it felt to have Hank underneath him. He startled, a strangled groan escaping him when Hank moved his hips, testing the waters. His hands shot down, circling Hank's waist, feeling his muscles bunching with his experimental thrusts. Brock rocked in tandem with those shy movements, slow and controlled but so fucking sweet. Jesus, the kid was tight! The pressure on his dick was painful but his slow, steady thrusts were opening Hank up. He slid in deeper, making Hank whimper. Brock was wild, every sound making him want to draw out more. Every sweaty caress urging him to press deeper, get closer. The rigid way Hank held himself broadcast his discomfort. Brock reached between their bodies, finding Hank's needy prick and pumping it in time with his thrusts. Now that they had crossed this threshold once wasn't going to be enough for him, he would want Hank like this again, so he had to make it good for him. He tipped his pelvis, angling so that he would thrust over the sweet spot inside Hank. His tip found its target and Hank tightened around him, causing them both to cry out. Brock was merciless, hitting it over and over again.

Hank was drowning, his brain sizzling and popping like a fried electrical circuit, trying in vain to process the pleasure. The deep tremor and burn of Brock sliding in hard, the brush of a thumb over the tip of his cock, a hot breath against his lips. Everything came in flashes, flickering impressions that strobed through his entire body. His blood pooling in his groin, the familiar throbbing that meant he was seconds away from blowing his load.

"Brock I'm coming!" Hank gasped, all the muscles in his body seizing up. His dick jerked and burst in Brock's big hand, come splashing between them.

Brock lost it when he heard that breathy voice, his thrusts becoming fast and erratic. The rhythmic clamping of Hank's body drove him over the edge and with one last savage thrust he climaxed. He pulled Hank tight against him, riding out his orgasm. After the final pulse all of the tension left his body and he slumped forward, cradling Hank, both if them basking in the afterglow. He inhaled the combined scent of sweat, semen and earth. Kissing every inch of Hank he could reach until he felt him shifting, hands pushing against his shoulders.

"Am I squishing you?" He pressed up on his arms, giving Hank some breathing room.

"No, but your stuff is leaking out of me." Hank flushed, the fluid leaking down his ass crack felt cold and unpleasant. He cringed when Brock glanced down, acknowledging the distressing intimacy of their connection.

Brock swore when he saw semen bubbling out around his softening dick. He'd been so eager to get inside Hank that he had forgotten to put on the condom. He eased out, grimacing at the little flood of white fluid.

"Ah shit. I'm sorry Hank, I should have worn a condom." His eyes darted to Hank, who lay still, a stricken look on his face.

"What do you mean? I'm not going to get sick am I?"

"No. I'm clean so you're going to be fine. When you get home be sure to take a shower and wash real good before you go to bed or you'll have a nasty mess on your hands in the morning." Hank's bright eyes stared up at him and guilt burned in the back of his throat. "Hank, having unprotected sex is something both people should decide together. I got carried away. I'm sorry." Brock reached behind his neck, grabbing the thick curls he found there. Hank sat up, a bewildered expression on his face and Brock stood frozen. Was the kid okay? He cursed inwardly, he never should have taken this so far. They had both wanted it but he should have guessed at the fallout from fucking a kid you helped raise. Well, there would be time to regret his eagerness later, right now he had to help Hank. He sat down at the boy's side, reaching his arm around Hank's drooping shoulders, pulling him against his broad chest.

Hank sagged against Brock's reassuring warmth, his brain repeating a panicked litany: I just had sex with a man. The fact that his partner had been Brock Samson, one of Pop's oldest friends, the man who had protected him and his brother for most of their lives, made him feel faint. Despite this a tenuous flush of pride in his first sexual experience sprouted inside him. What was going to happen now? Would they become lovers? Would Brock drive him home and tell him to act like none of this had ever happened? He would never be able to look at the man next to him without remembering what being fucked by him had felt like. He'd been fucked by Brock! The air around him turned solid and he couldn't breathe.

Hank swayed under his arm and Brock turned in time to see the color draining out of the kid's face.

"Take it easy Hank, everything is okay, take some deep breaths. Don't go fainting on me." He guided Hank's head down between his knees, helping him regain his equilibrium. His hand traced soothing circles on Hank's back, using his own deep breathing to guide Hank back from his panicked breathlessness.

"What happens now?"

"Well I think the first thing we should do is get you dressed."

"You know that isn't what I meant. I mean what happens now...with us?"

"I know what you meant. I'm not sure where to go from here, you seem pretty upset about what we just did. What do you want to happen Hank? "

Brock stood and offered Hank his hand, his protective instincts kicking in. Hank needed to get some clothes on, he looked too vulnerable sitting there shivering and sticky.

Hank stood, mechanically pulling on his clothes. What did he want from Brock? Having sex with him felt incredible, but this was so much more than that. He'd been slow in realizing it but he had been falling in love with Brock for a long time. Brock's leaving had been a catalyst, forcing him to accept the depth of his own feelings. That moment when Brock had slid inside him had felt like coming home, like it had been waiting for him all his life. He didn't even want to picture a future where Brock wasn't part of his life, if that wasn't love than Hank didn't know what was. Did Brock feel that way about him? Hank didn't doubt that Brock cared about him and it was clear that he excited him but was that all it was? His heart hurt at the thought that they might not want the same thing. He stayed silent for a long time, chewing his bottom lip. When he did speak his voice came out rough.

"I'm not upset. I know I freaked out but it's a lot to take in. You've always been in my life and it's no secret that I look up to you, so of course it blew me away that we just had sex. I can't lie and say I'm not afraid cause I am. I'm afraid of what this means, afraid everything is going to change." His voice broke. "Tell me you still love me."

Brock felt like he had been slapped across the face. Did Hank think he didn't love him? He gathered the kid in his arms, pulling him tight against his body.

"Of course I love you. Hank, I wouldn't have made love to you if I didn't." He spoke in a soft voice, lips brushing against Hank's tousled locks. "I'm not going to tell you this won't change things, but change doesn't have to be bad."

"Are we going to tell Pop and Dean about this?" Hank asked anxiously.

Brock blanched at the idea, once again feeling his stomach harden. He was not looking forward to that conversation. He heard a snicker and turned to see Hank trying to hold back a laugh at his obvious discomfort and he rolled his eyes giving the kid a playful shove.

"Yeah I suppose if we do this we are going to have to tell the Doc and your brother." Brock raised an inquiring eyebrow at Hank. Would Hank take the chance and see where this chemistry between them could lead? A small bemused smile came over his features when he found himself hoping Hank would say yes. When had he started loving Hank as a man and not as a kid?

"So are we like...boyfriends now?" Hank turned the term over in his mind, trying it on like a new shirt. He liked the way it fit. He cut his eyes up toward Brock's face, putting some space between them. Brock wasn't exactly a relationship kind of guy. He never spent more than a few weeks with anyone and Hank couldn't handle being the next pit stop in his life.

Brock balked at the unfamiliar term. He'd had sex with men in the past but he'd never dated any of them and Hank had never dated at all. Did he want to get into a relationship that would have more than it's share of difficulty? He concentrated on the feel of Hank's warm body in his arms. For so long it had been his job to safeguard Dr. Venture and the boys, even now he only felt relaxed when they were with him. Dating Hank would be very different. By virtue of their past together it would be more serious, more confusing, more exciting.

"We can be boyfriends if that's what you want. It's not going to be easy Hank. Are you sure that you want your first relationship to be with me?" Brock felt the goosebumps that ran the length of Hank's arms and twined their hands leading them back to the Charger. The starlight glinting of its masculine frame.

"What do you mean? Do you want to do this? Brock you don't have to baby me, I know relationships aren't your thing." Hank cursed the defensive tone of his voice. He didn't want Brock's pity.

Hank shrank back, trying to free his hand, but Brock kept dragging him forward. A pre-dawn iciness pervaded the air and the shelter of the car was only a few steps away. They could finish their conversation inside. He opened the back door and climbed in, towing the blond after him.

"Close the door," he ordered. He leaned back, getting comfortable before catching Hank around the waist and dragging the kid across his lap, making Hank straddle him.

"What are you doing?" Hank let out an undignified yelp, a dull pain shooting up his backside. It had been a while since Brock had manhandled him like that and he had forgotten how strong his former bodyguard was.

"I want to hold you." Brock rested his hands on the crest of the boy's hips, keeping him where he wanted him. He saw Hank blush at his words and look away.

"Hank I want this." He punctuated his statement with a kiss, long and deep, leaving the kid looking dazed when he pulled back. "I want you to understand that it's going to take a lot of work. Just because we want each other doesn't mean it's always going to be easy and fun. Relationships are hard, and I don't want you to agree to this and then turn tail and run the second it gets tough." He felt the tension seep out of Hank's body. Hank dropped his head, nestling into Brock's shoulder. His body started to notice the sexual implications of having the kid pressed against him like this but he filed those desires away for another time. He smiled. There would be another time, now he could touch Hank like this whenever he wanted.

"So you actually want to be with me? Like go on dates, and have sex, and be together?" Hank was incredulous: even in his fantasies he had never allowed himself to believe that Brock would want anything more from him than a quick fuck. In his dreams, they were like ships passing in the night, an ignition of sweet lust and power before drifting apart again. He molded himself against Brock's chest, arms tight around his neck.

"Yeah, I do. You, ah, you feel good to me kid." Brock stumbled a little over the admission but it was genuine so he didn't try covering it up with his usual cool demeanor. Hank would need to hear things like that from him. He would have to fight hard against his nature to be more open with his feelings. They stayed in the moment, pressed together, the only sounds were the soft whispers of their breath.

Hank felt himself getting hard, realizing that at some point he had started rocking his groin against Brock's. The hands at his waist tightened, holding him still. He pushed away, fidgeting in embarrassment. Catching sight of Brock's heat-filled blue eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, you're making it hard to do the right thing here. You're already hurting and I need to get you home," Brock protested, nipping Hank's neck right over his pulse point.

"I didn't."

"I doubt anyone has ever told you this but you're sexy and you don't have to do much for it to feel like a tease." Hank scoffed but Brock grabbed his wrist, forcing his hand against the answering hardness in his pants. Showing Hank the evidence of his power. Brock gave him one last kiss before helping Hank slither off of him and into the front passenger seat. Hank let out a little whimper of pain when sat down and Brock had a fleeting notion that he should kiss that pain away. He pictured the bright shade of scarlet that would cover the kid from head to toe if he suggested it. He took pity on Hank, tonight had been embarrassing enough. Next time, he promised himself silently. Once they were both settled Brock started the car and turned back towards home.

"I'll be lucky if Hatred hasn't noticed that you're missing." Brock grumbled, already anticipating having to deal with another of the other man's territorial displays.

"Hatred can eat me," Hank sniped

"No, that's my job."

Hank flushed bright red and Brock burst out laughing.

"When am I going to see you again, Brock?" Hank asked. Talking about Hatred had reminded him that Brock was still working for S.P.H.I.N.X. and not living with them anymore.

"Tomorrow. I'm not assigned to any missions right now so don't worry about me going anywhere. There are some logistics we'll have to figure out but it'll all be okay." Brock grabbed his hand, threading their fingers and giving a gentle squeeze.

"Okay, tomorrow." Hank smiled.

Fin


End file.
